Kyung put both hands on his face, released a shuddering breath. His plan had been so good. He would get the portrait and avoid his assassin. But no. Of course one of the watchmen had to trip, twist his ankle and mess up Kyung‘s carefully arranged time schedule. He could have still have made it out with the portrait, unarrested (they still hadn‘t noticed its abscence) and alive. No doubt, whoever his assassin was or who hired them was powerful. Scratch that, Kyung was 99% that he knew exactly

 Kyung was half lying on his back, half leaned back against the headrest of Jiho‘s bed. Zico had one arm thrown over Kyung‘s stomach, hand holding his phone, some old movie flickering over the screen. Kyung held a novel, lazily turning pages from time to time. He marked his current page and set his book down, looking at a point over Jiho’s shoulder.

"You need to lock your goddamn door, Jiho.", Kyung mutters under his breath as he shoulders the door, indeed unlocked, to his friend's studio open. In one hand he carries a giant bag of Japanese takeout, the other one holding his phone.  "You don't hear anything with your headphones on!" Kyung dumps the takeout where Jiho can't see it yet and flops onto the couch at the back of the room. [A small piece of uncompleted Zikyung fl